Mountain Jewel Read online

  Dedication

  For my husband, Sir Thomas.

  Chapter One

  Adirondack Mountains.

  North Creek, NY 1880.

  “How long has he been in town?” Hannah Jackson’s eyes widened as she looked past the rows of spices, fabrics and other household items to gaze out the large storefront window of the mercantile at the man leaving the hotel. The sight of him made her blood boil.

  “You mean Chase Malone?” From behind the long oak counter, Mabel Curtis stopped her tally of the inventory sheet to look in the same direction.

  Hannah nodded.

  “He arrived yesterday,” Mabel answered sure and matter-of-fact. “Do you need anything else, Hannah?”

  Hannah turned her attention back to Mabel. “No, that will be all.”

  Hannah walked over to the counter and hefted the last heavy box of goods into her arms, then turned and walked outside. Her boots tapped against the boards as she made her way across the planked walkway. She set the box in the back of the buckboard, looking up just in time to see Chase Malone making his way down the dirt road that cut a path up the middle of Main Street. She pulled the wide brim of her black felt hat down over her brow, shading her eyes from the noonday sun. She preferred to scrutinize him from under the shadow of the hat. Just looking at the way he sauntered toward her, his sure footfalls never missing a step, made her temper flare. His long, muscular legs moved in even strides, easily closing the distance between them. He was dressed in a pair of black pants with a white cotton shirt over which he wore a thigh-length coat. Hannah thought he’d probably put away his city suits and ties the minute he’d stepped off the Albany stagecoach.

  She didn’t feel like making polite conversation with the likes of Mr. Malone today.

  “Arrogant bastard.” The epithet spilled from her full lips as she turned and stole back into the store to settle her account with Mrs. Curtis.

  She’d thought the decent folk of North Creek had seen the last of Mr. Malone when he’d ridden out last year. The man was nothing more than a fortune hunter who worked for another fortune hunter. The last time he’d been in North Creek, Mr. Malone had managed to hoodwink some of her decent, hardworking neighbors out of what was rightfully theirs.

  Mr. Malone and the Tyler Mining Company wanted to buy up all of the mineral and mining rights to every piece of property in North Creek. If it weren’t for the small bit of income the mine provided for the town, Hannah would curse the garnet stones that lay buried in the earth high in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State.

  She wanted to stop Tyler Mining from ripping up the mountains here in North Creek. She would hate for her home to become what Maple Gorge had. The town fifty miles east of here had been torn apart by the mining company. Not only had entire mountainsides been blown away, but neighbor had been pitted against neighbor.

  Hannah stopped when she reached the counter. Standing with her back to the door, she bent over to brush some dust off of her blue denim pants.

  “Good morning, ladies.”

  She spun around, the dust and the account quickly forgotten. Her face grew warm and flushed as she realized the direction Mr. Malone’s gaze had taken. She wanted to wipe the silly grin off his clean-shaven face.

  She should have worn her riding skirt instead of the pants that did little to conceal her feminine curves. But she’d ridden into town to load the wagon with supplies, not to while the day away with some city gentleman.

  Straightening her spine, Hannah looked him square in the eye, refusing to let herself be intimidated. For the briefest of moments she felt her confidence wavering and forced herself to look into those steel-gray eyes.

  Bitterness edged her every word when she finally found her voice. “Tell me, Mr. Malone, are you here to swindle more hardworking, honest people out of their land?”

  “I hope that isn’t the way you greet all visitors that come to your scenic mountain town. Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.” His cool gaze slid from her eyes and continued down, taking in every inch of her body. She found herself staring back into Mr. Malone’s eyes once again as his gaze returned to her face. Hannah felt the heat of a blush spread from her neck up to her chin and fan out across her cheeks.

  “How are your grandparents?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort he was causing her.

  She was tempted not to answer him, but decided the best way to deal with Mr. Malone would be directly. “Fine.” Affecting her best Bostonian accent, one that she’d learned while away at boarding school, she tilted her head back the slightest bit and declared, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t come near them or our homestead.”

  “My, my, Miss Hannah, but you sure are feisty this morning.” He grinned.

  He was actually enjoying this exchange. “You may address me as Miss Jackson. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  He took two steps toward her, stopping at the end of the counter. He toyed with the metal top to a candy jar filled with red-and-white-striped peppermint sticks.

  “The one about my being here to swindle your friends out of their land?” He paused for a moment as if pondering her question, then set the lid back in its place. “I’m not taking anything from the decent townsfolk of North Creek. Anyone who wishes to deal with Tyler Mining Company will get more than a fair price from my employer.”

  “Well, you can save yourself the trouble of coming out to the Jackson Homestead. My grandfather isn’t interested in any offer!”

  “So now you make all the decisions for the family?” When she didn’t answer, he folded his arms across his chest and continued, “I see. Well then, Miss Jackson, it appears we have some unfinished business.”

  The statement hung in the air like frost on a brisk fall morning. Stunned, she snapped her mouth shut and turned around to settle her account. After doing so, she reached for the last sack of dried beans and headed toward the door.

  “Good-day to you, Mr. Malone.” In her haste to leave, her arm accidentally brushed against him. His scent of sandalwood soap and tobacco teased her nose, sending her senses reeling. Quickly she retreated to the double glass doors.

  “Oh, Hannah—don’t forget you and your grandparents are to come for dinner this Saturday!” Mrs. Curtis called to her as she left the mercantile. “Julia is anxious to tell you all about her wedding plans!”

  “We’ll be there, Mrs. Curtis. Is six o’clock too early?” Hannah looked back over her shoulder as she swung the door open.

  “Six will be fine.”

  “I’ll be seeing you around, Miss Jackson.” Malone smiled as he tipped his hat to her.

  Hannah ignored him and continued outside. She plunked the bag of beans down on top of the sack of flour, then climbed up onto the buckboard’s seat. Grabbing the reins, she urged the mare forward. Determined to enjoy the remains of the fine spring day, Hannah tried, unsuccessfully, to force all thoughts of Chase Malone from her mind.

  She’d only traveled to the edge of town when she felt the resentment and anger toward him bubbling up inside of her. Her thoughts whirled around in her mind like a tornado. The unmitigated nerve of that man to suggest that there was unfinished business between them!

  Chase stood in the open doorway of the mercantile and watched the dust roll out from behind the buckboard. Not only did Hannah Jackson cut a fine figure in her men’s clothing, but she also knew how to handle a wagon.

  Thinking about their most recent exchange, he realized she also knew how to speak her mind and wasn’t the least bit afraid to do so. He knew that as long as Miss Jackson remained in the picture he could expect the battle of his life when it came to the completion of this job. He couldn’t say as he blamed her for being so protective of her home. If put in the same position he’d do everything
he could to protect what belonged to him. He stepped back inside the store and bought some tobacco and rolling paper, then stuffed them inside his coat pocket as he walked outside.

  He stood on the planked walkway and surveyed the street. The small town of North Creek had everything a person could need. The short main street consisted of a saloon, which also passed for a hotel, a barber shop, a small brick building that housed the bank, the stagecoach depot, the sheriff’s office, and the mercantile. Behind the stage depot stood a large barn, which served as the livery and the blacksmith shop combined.

  Turning, Chase walked toward the sheriff’s office. Women with small children in tow made their way to the mercantile and two gentlemen crossed the street and entered the bank. Wouldn’t the peaceful, law-abiding citizens of North Creek be surprised if they knew the truth about who he was and the reason he was here?

  He’d worked for the Tyler Mining Company for close to three years now. Of course he didn’t actually “work” for Tyler Mining. No, he had another, much more persuasive employer than Harold Tyler. As far as Chase knew, everyone here believed he was in charge of acquiring all the mineral rights to land that Tyler Mining felt had mining potential.

  Chase smiled when he thought about how convincing an act he’d pulled off. Obviously Hannah Jackson and her neighbors hadn’t a clue as to what was actually going on in these hills. He’d always been good at lying…no, perhaps lying was too strong a word. He’d hate to say he was a good liar, but from the time he was young boy, he’d been better than most at deceiving people. For the past eight years he’d been paid handsomely to do just that.

  As far as he could tell no one suspected anything out of the ordinary. Hannah was still under the impression that he wanted the Jacksons’ mineral rights, and Harold Tyler still saw him as just another employee of his office. Otherwise, why would he have sent him back here to finish the job?

  He stepped up onto the porch that flanked the front of the sheriff’s office. He could have laughed out loud at the absurdity of his situation. Here he was, a city boy born and raised, stuck in the middle of these God-forsaken mountains for Lord only knew how long this time. Tyler said not to come back to New York City until he had the Jacksons’ mineral rights, rights Chase had no intention of getting.

  He paused outside the doorway to run his fingers along the brim of his black felt cowboy hat and straighten the lapels of his jacket. Turning the brass doorknob, he entered the dusty office. Sheriff Curtis didn’t budge from his chair behind the marred oak desk as Chase came toward him.

  “So, Mr. Malone. I see you got my message.”

  Chase took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust the dimness of the room. A small potbelly stove sat in one corner of the office. Behind the sheriff’s desk was a crude wooden board with four tattered wanted posters haphazardly tacked on to it.

  Realizing the sheriff was waiting for him to answer, he responded, “The hotel clerk gave it to me on my way out this morning.”

  “Have a seat.” The sheriff waited for him to sit. “How’s Jeb been treating you?”

  Jeb Daley owned the North Creek Hotel, though Chase would hardly classify the structure as a hotel, at least not by New York City standards. As rustic as a barn, the log cabin structure, with a facade front rising several feet above the peak of the roof, looked as if it had been plunked down smack in the middle of the Adirondack Mountains without much thought to location.

  But the rooms were clean and comfortable, and at this point in time he couldn’t hope for more.

  Chase smiled slowly and said, “My rooms are suitable.”

  “Not what you’re used to in the big city, huh?” The sheriff grinned as if he were privy to some big secret.

  Chase removed his hat and ran his hand through his rumpled hair. “You sure didn’t waste any time summoning me here. Why don’t you tell me why you needed to see me, Sheriff?”

  “I like to keep a close watch on any visitors to my town. That’s all,” the burly older man added, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

  Chase had serious misgivings as to the truth of the sheriff’s words. He looked the older man squarely in the eyes. “I haven’t broken any laws.”

  “No, you haven’t. But that boss of yours, he’s a different story.”

  Chase assumed he referred to Harold Tyler.

  “I’ve done some asking around since you were here last.”

  “And?” He stared back at the sheriff, trying to quell a growing sense of unease. Was it possible the sheriff had found out about him?

  “And I don’t like what I’m hearing. It seems the last place Tyler Mining did business came up a few short on citizens after the company pulled out.”

  Chase knew better than to say a word. He’d long suspected that Tyler had had those two men in Maple Gorge killed. He had no proof and he was certain that Sheriff Curtis didn’t, either. Curtis probably wanted to ferret information out of him.

  “Are you implying that I had something to do with those disappearances?” Chase asked coolly, his gaze flickering over the wanted posters and then back to the sheriff.

  “Nope. I’m saying that this here is a small town and we can’t afford to lose any taxpayers.” The smile that touched the sheriff’s mouth didn’t reach his eyes. “The way I see it, your job is to make certain that our census numbers stay the same long after Tyler Mining leaves. Allowing, of course, for births and deaths from natural causes.”

  Several moments passed before Chase spoke; he knew exactly what the sheriff was implying. “Are you asking me to be an agent for this office?”

  “Something like that. The way I see it you and I could have these little chats on a regular basis. I just want to be kept informed that way I can better serve and protect my town.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re giving me a choice?”

  “Nope.”

  He wasn’t worried about reporting back to the sheriff, he was more worried about raising suspicions if he didn’t. “You understand, Sheriff, I’m under no obligation to tell you anything good or bad about my employer.”

  “I sure was hoping you might reconsider my request. Tell you what, Mr. Malone, the missus is fixing to have some company over for dinner this Saturday. Why don’t you join us?”

  Chase smiled. The sheriff might look big and burly, but he knew the subtle art of manipulation. Declining the invitation was not an option. “What time?”

  “Six o’clock.”

  Rising from his seat, he reached out and politely shook the sheriff’s hand. “Saturday it is.”

  “Good day, Malone.” Sheriff Curtis dismissed him with a nod.

  Chase grinned as he left the sheriff’s office. Hannah Jackson had no idea she would be in his company on Saturday night.

  The wagon jostled along on the rocky roadway that led to the Jackson homestead. Hannah knew how fortunate she was to live in such a wonderfully wild place. The tall craggy mountainsides and the rolling hills with the narrow rutted roadways were a sharp contrast to the cobblestone streets and neatly lined brownstones of Boston.

  It was hard to believe that she’d spent the better part of the last four years at Mrs. Hart’s School for Young Women. She was well aware how her Boston schoolmates, with their Beacon Hill airs, would shun her if they saw her dressed in men’s trousers and a blue cotton shirt. She supposed they would consider her to be quite indecent. Perhaps, but here in the wilderness a pretty calico dress would be ruined by the end of the day.

  “Hannah! There you are!”

  Hannah maneuvered the wagon over the rutted drive and around to the back of the farmhouse. Hopping down from the seat, she tied the mare to the hitching post and went around to the back of the buckboard, reaching for the sacks of flour.

  “Hannah, dear, leave that for your grandfather and Mike. Come on in the house and have a nice cup of tea.”

  Hannah smiled gratefully. Her grandmother stood on the slate step waiting. A wisp of her silver hair had come loose from its bun and rested lightly agai
nst her cheekbone. With a veined hand, she reached up and swatted the strand out of the way.

  “Thanks, Gram.” Hannah sighed wearily. She didn’t feel like unloading the wagon. She was anxious to be away from thoughts of Chase Malone, to escape into the safe haven of her grandparents’ home.

  Her leg brushed against one of the twin lilac bushes that framed the back stoop, the sweet scent of the purple flowers tickled her nose.

  As she followed her grandmother into the house, she thought once again about how lucky she was. Her grandparents had taken care of her since her parents’ death in an avalanche ten years ago. Matthew and Clara Jackson had been devoted to her, their only grandchild.

  “Hannah, why don’t we use your teapot?”

  “That would be fine.” Hannah loved both of her grandparents dearly. They were her foundation. Their constant love had been the one thing that had gotten her through the most desolate time of her life.

  Smiling her thanks, she accepted the blue china teapot from her grandmother’s hands then placed it on one end of the long plank table. She walked over to the pine sideboard and reached up to unlatch the glass door. The coveted blue china collection was her only legacy from her mother. Hannah placed two cups and saucers on the sideboard and, opening the top drawer, reached in and picked out a white linen tablecloth.

  She spread the cloth carefully on one end of the table, smoothing out the folds as she did so. Then she set out the rest of the tea service. Hannah loved these peaceful times with her grandmother. She knew, however, that the only time the tea service was put to use was when Clara Jackson felt something was troubling her granddaughter.

  “Shall we sit? I believe the tea is ready.”

  “It smells wonderful. Are you experimenting with the herbal flavors again?” Hannah smiled affectionately at her grandmother.

  “I thought we might give it another go.”

  Hannah had to stifle a grimace as she remembered the last attempt at making an herbal tea. The leaves had been steeped for so long the warm brew was extremely bitter. Much to her relief, this pot of tea had a pleasant aroma.